


Simple Lunacy

by chillydown



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: Gen, Post-Canon, this is very silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:08:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25438960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chillydown/pseuds/chillydown
Summary: "What do you think about possibly hexing the moon?"
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Simple Lunacy

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies in advance for anyone who reads this post July 2020 and has no idea what the hell I'm referencing. In all the various twitter threads about the tiktok witches hexing the moon discourse (read it here, it's bonkers: https://www.cosmopolitan.com/lifestyle/a33370477/witch-hex-moon-tiktok-twitter-witchtok/ ), I saw at least five tweets basically saying something like "did Gilbert Norrell write this." Because yes, Gilbert Norrell WOULD do a tweet thread about how it's a bad idea to hex the moon, looking at YOU certain other magicians.

"What do you think about possibly hexing the moon?"

At first, Norrell thought Strange must have been joking. The man did have his little eccentricities that Norrell loved or simply tolerated. Perhaps grandiose statements of nonsensical magic were simply the latest bad habit he managed to pick up, like humming to himself while working (an enjoyable habit), tugging at his hair when annoyed (a habit that Norrell disliked as he disliked anything that made Strange hurt himself in some way), or leaving crumbs in between the pages of Norrell's books (this habit was unforgivable).

But when he saw that manic look in Strange’s eyes, the slightly frenzied expression the man gained whenever he had an idea that he was going to throw himself into, heart and soul, Norrell knew that the man had to be serious. And almost instantly, Norrell was worried.

“Why would you hex the moon in the first place?” he asked.

“Well, we are still trapped in this darkness,” Strange said, with a wave of his hand. “Perhaps if we break the spell we can return to England.”

This is another thing that worried Norrell, a man who was perfectly comfortable spending the rest of his eternity near Strange, with one unable to leave the other alone. But, he knew Strange had a wife and he suspected married men must miss their wives every once in a while (though how Strange could miss his wife when they were discovering new magic every day was beyond Norrell’s comprehension.) But he at least deserved to hear out Strange’s idea, however far-fetched it may be.

“And how will hexing the moon remove the curse?”

“There is a spell in Ormskirk—”

“You’re going to cast powerful magic from a spell that was written by a magician who’s magic never worked for himself?!”

“Will you let me finish?” Strange interrupted. “There is a spell in Ormskirk for dispelling illusions and correcting wrong ideas. You draw upon elements of nature to block out the deceiver’s illusions. Salt, bees, an iron nail through one’s hand—”

“Mister Strange, this does not sound like a very safe sort of magic,” said Norrell, a man who had not experienced any injury greater than a sprained ankle after a bad fall and rather wanted to keep it that way.

“We are not very safe sort of magicians,” said the less safe of the two. “The spell starts with placing the moon at one’s eyes to shine through the deceiver’s lies. If we draw upon the power of the moon and make it the sole focus instead of spreading the focus through representatives of the senses, it could shine through the magic and dispel the darkness entirely.”

“Except Ormskirk’s spell is for dispelling illusions, not curses. And again, it is _Ormskirk_ —”

“Who has worked for me before, I do not know why you detest the man so much, Norrell.”

“That does not change the fact that the spell is for dispelling _illusions._ Illusions, Mister Strange! We have been here long enough to know the curse exists.”

“Dispel illusions and correct wrong ideas,” Strange continued smugly. “Surely our situation is the exact definition of a wrong idea!”

Based on Norrell’s frown, he did not think so. He was spending eternity with his closest friend, how was that the wrong idea? And, as Strange’s expression shifted from a triumphant smug grin to a slightly more pensive frown, it was slowly becoming apparent to him that their situation might not be as wrong as he had first thought. Or, more likely, he was interpreting the sad frown on his friend’s face and realizing the implication. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but Norrell started talking first.

“Wrong ideas aside,” Norrell continued, “why would you hex the moon? Surely if the spell was to draw upon her power then a spell of entreating or benediction would be better. Not a curse!”

“Benediction is the proper form but it does not guarantee results. A hex would guarantee that no matter what, the moon would listen to our plea and respond to our call. She would have no other choice.”

“And she would be angry when responding! Why would something that you annoyed and cursed wish to help you?”

“I find that I have experience winning those I have annoyed and cursed over to my side,” Strange said, with a pointed look at Norrell who did not grasp Strange's implication. “A binding enchantment should work. I believe there was one mentioned in De Chepe—”

“Mister Strange, _you cannot bind the moon to answer your call!_ ” By this point, Norrell found himself getting quite worked up. “Even if you did, have you not considered the fact that such a powerful force will not take kindly to being bound? It is the _moon_ , Mister Strange! If you want to draw on its power, work with it instead of against it—”

“But I—”

As Norrell was on a tangent, he continued talking, outright ignoring Strange’s protestation. “And that does not include the fact that if the spell fails, then you risk taking the magical energies needed to cast the spell onto your own person which, may I remind you, is a considerable amount. I will not see you harmed by your own actions again!”

An awkward silence settled for a moment as both magicians took in the content of Norrell’s final words: Norrell seemed slightly scandalized that he would admit such a thing himself, Strange seemed wryly amused that the admission happened to begin with. The conversation lingered in a horrible standstill before Strange took it back up. The younger magician had the decency to look guilty for a moment before he sheepishly admitted, “To be fair, this idea was more thought out than my first plan of action.”

“Which was?”

“Hexing the fae.”

“ _Mister Strange!_ ”

To no one’s surprise, the two descended into yet another argument spanning multiple hours, cross-referencing various texts, and singing the praises or ignoring the output of whatever magician they thought useful or useless today. Like most arguments, what started off as an actual argument soon devolved into a debate on magical theory which then devolved into a debate for the sake of debating. Soon, both men had forgotten what they started arguing about and left the conversation in a much brighter mood than they had started.

In her place in the sky, far away from the realm Jonathan Strange and Gilbert Norrell inhabited, the moon shone on.


End file.
